Smirks and Scowls
by zazanis
Summary: Cato smirks. Katniss scowls. And however much they attempt to deny it, they both adore each other's signature facial expressions. After watching Katniss Everdeen volunteer, Cato Lockhart develops an insatiable infatuation with the Girl on Fire. Clark Bockelman is Cato. So much better fitting than Alexander Ludwig in my opinion.
1. Chapter 1

The train speeds up and Cato shivers with excitement. He looks around the carriage, searching for a bottle of wine to indulge in. Cato was quite the wine connoisseur. Growing up in District 2, Cato had developed an immense appreciation for the finer things in life — high quality wine, good food, effortless dancing, precise tailoring, and of course, elite swordsmanship. Cato uncorks the wine bottle and selects a wine glass from the cupboard, placing each down on the table in front of him. He lounges upon the elegant sofa, resting his hands behind his head and crossing his legs upon the coffee table, giving off an aura of pure class and relaxation. He reaches for the wine and pours his first glass, then flicks on the television to begin watching District 1's Reaping recap. Taking his first sip of wine, he decides a glass per Reaping will do. _This will be fun._

The door suddenly opens and Cato's attention shifts to his fellow tribute. He didn't pay much attention to her at the Reaping; he just caught her name, Clove, knowing that he'd have plenty of time to work her out later. Clove is tall, with raven colored hair, but nothing extremely out of the ordinary. She sits down on the sofa, faces him, and tilts her head to the side.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Cato," she extends her hand, sounding almost pleasant. _Almost_.

Cato grins his predatory grin and, because he's in a playful mood, replies, "No, the pleasure is _all_ mine."

She rolls her eyes, shocking Cato; no one has ever done that him before. _Interesting,_ he thinks, _she doesn't seem to be afraid._

Back home, he had quite the reputation. He heard what people said about him: "Cato is a big-balled, crazy-eyed, motherfucking killing machine, and if you stand in his way, he will claw into your chest, tear out your heart, and send goodbye letters to your family." And he lived up to that description. Parents warned their children about him. Other Careers feared and respected him. It was all flattering to him, really.

But this girl, with her swift cat-like moves and smooth tongue, seemed blatantly relaxed and unnerved by his presence. Cato is not an idiot. Clove may not be afraid, but she's a true Career. She is competition and she'll be keeping her eyes on him, just as he'll keep his guard up around her. He has no doubt about that.

Before he has a chance to make their conversation more entertaining, Anthea, their bubbly escort, bursts into the room. She's exuding excitement, far too much for Cato's taste.

"Oh, I see you've already befriended each other, how _marvelous_!" She begins pacing around the carriage. "But you haven't heard the news! Nothing like this has ever happened before!"

"Oh, do tell us, Anthea!" drawls Clove, smiling sweetly and feigning interest, her attention entirely focused on the silver knives laid out evenly on the table before her.

"District 12 has had its first volunteer since…ever! Their first ever volunteer! It was all really rather extraordinary. She stepped up, you see, to save her sister from being reaped! _The poor thing._ It was such a brave thing to do, and so sad at the same time…"

_Now, that is interesting,_ thinks Cato, Anthea's words fading into the background. District 12? Cato has been there once, when his uncle won the Games, a good couple of years back. A volunteer? He'll believe it when he sees it.

"…and the Capitol is absolutely thrilled; well, who wouldn't be? Naturally, she's on everybody's lips."

Cato is beginning to get mildly irritated, so he tries rationalizing the situation. _Of course, everyone would be talking about her,_ he justifies to himself, _who wouldn't be talking about some District 12 rat crazy enough to think they stand a chance in the games? _His irritation soon fades away. Anyway, it's not like she's going to survive for long; those from 12 never do. They are all weaklings, and that girl has probably never held a single weapon in her hand, probably not even a knife, considering those savages probably eat with their hands. As soon as she's dead, everyone will forget about her.

"Do you want to watch the recap?" asks Anthea in a flippant manner. Now that she delivered the news of the day, she busies herself with preparing a creamy cake in yellowish color that makes Cato sick.

Clove shoots her a look that could kill. "And waste my precious time? No, thanks, I've got better things to do than watch children tear up at the announcement of their death. _Ha,_ they always behave like poor little squirrels. Honestly, someone should just kill them immediately and save Panem all the embarrassment."

"Oh, Clove, dear, you have no compassion! You have to understand that they're not as brave as you are, of course! You are in a completely different league. You're designed to be winners after all!" The way Anthea chooses the word _designed _makes Cato's skin crawl a bit. "Well, suit yourself, Clove. I'll watch the reapings in my room," Anthea states, and with that, she struts out of the train's main compartment.

"Have fun, Cato," Clove smirks and exits the carriage behind Anthea, leaving Cato to continue watching the recaps where he left off.

Cato picks up the wine nonchalantly. He didn't want anyone to accompany him anyway; he needs to concentrate as he analyzes his competition; he plans to know everything about each competitor. Who knows? That girl from twelve _might_ just be worth his time. It would be foolish to disregard any possibility. He watches bits from each Reaping on the screen with moderate interest, restraining himself from the temptation to fast-forward the tape straight to the District 12 footage, for while he doesn't want to admit this, the supposed volunteer has really stolen his interest.

Tributes from 1 are not out of the ordinary, Careers of course, grinning ferociously and like glaring at each other's throats. He then sees Clove and himself, steady, calm, and collected, with the crowd cheering in front of them, already looking up to them like Victors. The rest of the reapings are mostly a blur, consisting of footage of some children that strikingly resemble miserable prey. _Well, aren't they just that_, Cato thinks.

"…Primrose Everdeen!" A shrill voice interrupts his thoughts, bringing Cato back to reality. Cato notices with excitement that he's finally reached District 12's reaping. The shrill voice belongs to the District's escort, Effie Trinket, and honestly, Cato hasn't witnessed a more ridiculous outfit in his entire life. Peacekeepers begin to usher a young girl towards the stage; she doesn't even look old enough to be a 12 year old. Cato almost pities her. _Almost, _he clarifies to himself. He can't pity her. She's just another nameless tribute, scared out of her wits.

The girl manages to make only a few nervous steps, when an older girl lunges from the crowd, screaming the tribute's name. The peacekeepers begin restraining her as she tries to reach out for the younger girl. And that's when she does it. Full of frantic passion, she screams, "I VOLUNTEER!" The peacekeepers immediately release her, and she takes about three more confident steps forward. With a newfound steadiness in her voice, she curtly states, "I volunteer as tribute."

Cato is immediately mystified. The girl is tall and skinny, her long dark hair carefully styled in some kind of a plate atop her head. She stands there, her chin held high, defiance radiating from her physique. Her little sister is crying hysterically, trying to reach her, but a tall guy picks her up and escorts her back to the crowd. However, Cato cannot bring himself care for any of those minor details. He stares intently at the screen; he can read the volunteer's face like an open book, fear, uncertainty, guilt, rushed decision scribbled all over it, but Cato notices something else. He notices that there is no surrender in the way she walks, and Cato begins to feel something unknown — something with claws and fangs, something deliciously sharp in her eyes — creep under his skin. _Well, look at that, she's a fighter,_ he thinks, and his heart starts to beat faster.

Cato takes another long, slow sip of his bitter red wine. "What's your name, sweetheart?" asks the escort, puffing her powdered cheeks. Her tone is flat, her fists clenched so hard her hands are almost shaking, when she answers, "Katniss Everdeen."

"Well, then, _Katniss Everdeen_", Cato tests the taste of her name on his tongue and it burns a little, just as he expected. "What a pleasure it is to meet you. And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor."


	2. Chapter 2

Katniss and the District 12 team finally arrive on their floor after a paparazzi filled journey from their train to the Training Center. The lights of the Capitol blind her. Even though they were way up high in the penthouse of an extravagant building, the walls of their floor were made up entirely of glass window panes; there was no way to escape sight of the Capitol. It was as if they were _trying _to torture her; no matter how much she tried to pretend she was back home in District 12, every time she opened her eyes she was reminded otherwise.

The Capitol seemed so unwelcoming with its massive, brightly-lit buildings spreading out along the entire perimeter of the city. District 12, on the other hand, was minuscule and homely compared to this. The whole population of the Seam could be squished into this entire room. Katniss clutches her Mockingjay pin to her chest. This small gift will serve as a memory of home—of Prim, of Gale, of her memories in the woods. This is what she needs to win; this will force her remember that she _needs_ to become the Victor.

Katniss walks away from the windows and sits on the excessively cushioned fur-lined couch. "This is so exciting! So, what do you think, Katniss? Isn't the Capitol so pretty? And look at all the decorations! These were all made to welcome the tributes," Effie squeals in excitement, her energy showing no signs of running out anytime soon, despite the long train ride.

"It's quite unnecessary," Katniss mutters, hoping the annoying woman will take the hint to just stop talking already.

Sure, everything here was supposedly made to "honor" the tributes. It's true that all 24 of them would eventually be returning home, but there's a catch; only one heart will still be beating. 23 of them were going to die—all for entertainment. 48 parents will be watching the Games intently—praying, crying, shouting, full of hope to see their children come out alive. 2 parents will cry out in joy when the games finally reach a conclusion. But then again, 46 of them will mourn. Every year, children die, parents cry, and Capitol citizens remain contently entertained.

A familiar stench of alcohol permeates the room. It can only mean one thing: Haymitch. The middle-aged man can barely support himself as he drags his feet towards the direction of the pantry, obviously planning to claim another bottle of whatever alcoholic substance he can get his hands on. He seems so focused on not tripping that he doesn't even notice the two women sharing his presence in the same room. Effie shakes her head, clicking her tongue in disgust. To escape the ugly sight, she turns her unwanted attention to Katniss.

"Katniss, tomorrow will be a big, big day! Your stylists will be coming here to fix you up, and of course, also Peeta. I bet you're excited."

Katniss snorts in disbelief. _Yeah right._

"Oh! Your makeovers. You wouldn't believe the stylist we got for both of you this year—" Katniss rolls her eyes as Effie starts yapping again. She stands up and quickly makes a run for it.

"I'm going out!" she calls with fake cheerfulness, not bothering to look back.

* * *

After getting settled in his room, Cato decides to check out what his floor's kitchen has to offer. Cato opens a pantry and scans over the diverse array of treats his floor has provided for him. He decides upon a long rectangle labeled "Premium German Chocolate". _Whatever German means._

Cato cracks his neck several times before cracking his knuckles. The muscles that bulged all over his body, albeit flattering, were aching to do some training. But he knew he would have to wait. They had just arrived at the training center, and Cato knew that today would be a long day. Soon he would be swept away and assaulted by a prep team, then forced into the spotlight for the tribute parade in the evening. Then, only after a long night of sleep, would he finally be able to start training. He had been stuck in that train for two days, and he still had to wait another day before he could train. _3 days. That's probably the longest I've gone without touching a sword_, he thinks. Cato starts to get antsy, and suddenly the room feels all too humid.

Giving in to the overwhelming urge to breathe fresh air, Cato begins to sneak towards the elevator, hoping to get away before his mentor, Brutus, starts questioning him. As he presses the elevator button, a dinging noise rings throughout the entire floor, and Brutus shouts at him not to leave the room. Cato scurries into the elevator and is able to push the "door close" button just before Brutus can stick his hand through to stop him. Once the doors close, Cato's eyes scan over the labeled floor buttons, and Cato's eyes light up when he sees an "RT" button, indicating an open rooftop. Cato presses the button and waits with frantic anticipation for fresh air. Cato decides to finally open his "German" chocolate bar. He plucks off a piece and drops it in his mouth, immediately relishing in the exquisite rich taste. _Damn, I gotta look into this whole German thing!_

The _ding_ of the elevator breaks Cato out of his chocolate induced trance. The doors open and Cato steps out into the daylight. The rooftop is a magnificent garden; it seems to contain every possible flower one could think up. It is full of small fountains, rose bushes, and tons of little nooks and crannies hidden among rows of flowers that could serve for a perfect game of hide and seek. Cato begins exploring the endless columns of precise gardening and is pretty sure he's already gotten himself lost.

He turns a corner and spots a person sitting upon a bench close to the edge of the rooftop, overlooking the bustling Capitol. She was a very petite girl: scrawny, almost sickly looking. She was a tribute, from the looks of it, and a very poor one at that. _I couldn't ask for easier prey. It's like they're handing me the win! _From her dress, which looked to have been made with cheap material, to her unkempt hair, he could tell right off the bat that this girl was one of the rats from the poorer districts. Cato begins slowly approaching her, careful to not let any noise escape with each step. However, Cato realizes far too late that he might have overestimated his stealthiness, for the petite girl turns to face him after he has only taken his third step.

Cato looks at the girl in shock, taking in her facial features. She is an olive-skinned brunette. She has gray eyes. She has angular cheekbones. And she has the most _adorable _freckles scattered across her nose. She is Katniss Everdeen.

Upon realizing that he has been staring for quite some time, Cato snaps back into reality and decides to address more pressing matters. For one: _How the hell this girl hear me?! I've been training for years! _

Little did Cato know, she was not just a girl. Katniss was a huntress.


	3. Chapter 3

After exploring the rooftop for a bit, Katniss collapses back against an elegant metal bench overlooking the Capitol skyline.

Only minutes later, she hears the vague sound of footsteps. But these weren't just any footsteps. These were footsteps that Katniss new the sound of far too well—footsteps of a being trying to remain unnoticed. Katniss recognized that when movements were so quiet that even _she_ could barely make them out, it meant that prey was trying to escape.

Through years of hunting, Katniss could detect footsteps from practically a mile away. Loud steps were always a bad sign—only vicious predators dared to let noise escape with their movements, knowing that no being could possibly overpower them. Years of mandatory Hunger Games viewings only further proved Katniss' theory; the Careers, with their brute strength and vicious mindsets, never bothered to walk quietly. They simply stomped around, laughing with each other, for their arrogance didn't allow them to consider other tributes as threats worthy of hiding from. Their loud footsteps were predatory in nature.

Quiet steps were an indication of weariness, of one being observing another with uncertainty, recognizing potential danger in the other.

Therefore, when Katniss turns around to see Cato staring back at her, she is utterly baffled. She had watched the Reaping recaps on the train, and she had witnessed Cato volunteer. Katniss was intimidated by his whopping 6 foot 2 stature and his build that seemingly lacked even one speck of fat, but at the time Katniss was still confident in her ability to defeat him. She could tell by the way he strode up the stage with his chin held high after volunteering that his body was bursting at the seams with arrogance, and arrogance was a huge weakness in the Hunger Games. Whenever there was a winner from a non-Career district, it was because the Careers that year let their arrogance get the best of them.

Judging from his Reaping, Cato seemed to be just that very type. The type to overlook all non-Career tributes instead of considering all opponents a threat. Katniss has been counting on that very attribute to be her ticket to winning.

But now, looking into the eyes of a man who practically screamed at her, "I know you're a threat!" with his footsteps, Katniss begins to feel queasy at the thought of Cato knowing her full potential. _This was their first ever encounter, and he couldn't have picked up on my archery skills by simply watching my Reaping, _Katniss mentally reminds herself. _There's no way he know I'm a threat._

After calming herself down, Katniss looks up to meet Cato's eyes but finds herself unable to achieve eye contact, for Cato's eyes are busy raking up and down her figure. Katniss initially feels incredibly uncomfortable at the lust in Cato's eyes; after all, she hasn't even _kissed_ a boy!

But when her mind returns to it's practical sense, she realizes that this might possibly work to her advantage. After all, she promised she would try her hardest to get back to Prim. _And if my number one enemy in the games is infatuated with me, hell, maybe it'll make him second guess himself before he chops me head off, _Katniss thinks. _And those few seconds __he spares to second guess himself could be just what I need to kill him and return home._

Once Cato's eyes finally meet Katniss', he decides that he should be the one to break the silence.

"Hello, Katniss," Cato says casually, walking over to the bench she is sitting on and plopping down beside her. Funny, because they've never actually met before, but they are both sadly aware how exactly they know each other's names.

"Hello, Cato," she says just as casually, but Cato can sense a bit of discomfort in her voice.

They sit in silence for 10 agonizingly slow seconds until Cato realizes he still has the German chocolate bar in his hand and decides to once again break the silence.

"Want a piece?" Cato asks.

"No, thanks," she states curtly.

And once again, they sit in silence. The sun is still beating down upon them, but it is slowly starting to set, and Cato begins to worry that he doesn't have much time left until Brutus starts looking for him and sends him to get prepped for the tribute parade. Cato isn't sure how many minutes pass by, but he knows he needs to get this conversation progressing if he ever wants to learn anything about Katniss Everdeen. His eyes dance down her figure once more. Katniss is wearing an obviously Capitol-made nightgown that hugs her curves perfectly, light pink and trimmed with lace along the edges. This inspires Cato to turn his charm on. He decides that a compliment might help her warm up to him.

"You look absolutely ravishing in that getup. What happened to your innocent little Reaping dress?"

"Trust me, I'd still be in it if I had the choice. I've been trying to avoid Capitol clothing for as long as possible. My escort intervened after a few days and tore the thing off of me. Said it was beginning to smell," She says. Cato chuckles, and she continues, "Now she insists on picking out all my clothes for me. She keeps yelling about the importance of dressing like a _mature young lady_. She seriously won't leave me alone. Ha, actually, she's the reason I escaped up here."

Cato takes the collar of her nightgown and runs it between his fingers, catching Katniss off guard. "Ah, so you're maturing? On the path to becoming a grown woman? Hm, it's too bad we're in the Games together. I'd love to help you complete the _journey to womanhood_."

"Excuse me?" Just when Katniss thought she had finally been blessed with a normal conversation for once, her horrible luck prevailed again.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. Our days are numbered, Katniss. Reasonably, I've decided to indulge in everything I desire," Cato say huskily. Cato tilts his head in so his lips nearly touch her earlobe as he whispers, "What about you, Everdeen? Do you have any desires I could be of use in satiating?"

She blushes at their closeness. "I do have many desires," she states. "But I plan on fulfilling them once I make it out of the arena."

Cato chuckles softly. "Are you sure about that?" he asks. "I am here for a reason, don't you think?"

Katniss scowls, showing her obvious disgust at Cato's cocky outburst.

"I've been training for this moment for 10 years. I can snap your neck with my bare hands. So, while it seems highly unlikely that you'll get out of this alive, the least I can do is make sure your last week of life is unforgettable."

Katniss opens her mouth to snap at Cato, but shuts it quickly, deciding she shouldn't test her luck around him. He could have a horrible temper, and Katniss knows better than to pick a fight with her number one enemy in the games. It is clearly necessary that she has to tread lightly around Cato, for she has no idea how violent and temperamental he can be, but Katniss is stumped on as to how she'll be able to escape this compromising invitation. An idea sparks in her mind, and Katniss suddenly knows exactly how she is going to play this.

Cato stares at Katniss as he awaits an answer, noticing that she looks deep in thought. He looks into her eyes and sees conflict in them, as if she is _actually_ debating the idea in her head. _Could she actually be considering this? Where's the defiant girl I saw at the Reaping? _Cato thinks.

After a few moments, the conflict fades from her eyes and is replaced by the look of determination that Cato notices she always seems to have. _Thank god, the girl I saw at the Reaping is back_, Cato thinks.

"Prove it, then... Prove that you can actually make me feel something in this hellhole," Katniss says.

_What?!_ _Is she seriously agreeing?! _Cato panics for a second. He proposed this idea to Katniss under the assumption that she'd blatantly reject him. _Oh, ha, I'm stupid. That was obviously a joke! She's just fucking with me. _After deciding to himself that Katniss was joking, Cato decides to play along and begins chuckling.

"Please, just give me a time and a place," Cato replies with a smirk.

After a brief pause, Katniss speaks again. "My floor, tonight, after the Tributes Parade."

Cato laughs a little harder, then says, "Okay! I'll make sure I'm there." Cato winks at the end of his statement, beginning to laugh again.

"I'm being serious," she says, throwing Cato her signature scowl.

"Oh, you are?!"

"Yes."

"You want my company?"

"Yes."

"Katniss Everdeen really wants to spend a night with Brutal, Bloody Cato?" Cato chuckles once again.

"I said yes," Katniss growls, the scowl never leaving her beautiful features.

Cato is taken aback by how serious she sounds. "You do know what my 'company' actually means, right?" Cato asks as he raises my eyebrow at her. Now Cato is completely convinced Katniss is thinks his company means playing with dolls and drinking tea; _there's just no way this girl is actually considering the idea of sleeping with me._ Cato shrugs off his thoughts and grabs another chunk of his German chocolate, popping it into his mouth.

Katniss once again glares at him with what looks like pure hatred, and right when he is about to make a snarky remark about her expression, Katniss suddenly attacks Cato's mouth, crashing her lips against his before swooping her tongue in and taking Cato's chocolate away from him in one move. Katniss slowly backs away from him, crunching down on his chocolate with each step, a smug smirk plastered on her face. Cato stares at her in shock, disbelief and amusement. _Was that Katniss' weird way of showing me she knows we're talking about sex? _Cato wonders.

"My floor, tonight, after the Tributes Parade," Katniss repeats what she said earlier, then sighs before talking again. "I know what you're saying, Cato. And if you're as good as you're convinced you are, then surely I could try...try to forget about what's going to happen... If I could just get my mind off the Games for a couple of hours, minutes, hell, _seconds_, I don't even care... I just want to forget for a while."

Katniss looks up at Cato, her eyes pleading with a little hint of embarrassment.

"I'll be there," Cato says in entire seriousness. And he will be there. He feels flustered, but it quickly disperses as he lets his eyes wander down Katniss' body; he outfit makes her body hard to ignore. The need to know how she looks without clothes on is becoming hard to ignore, especially after he starts to think of all the ways he could take that outfit off of her... _I guess I could use the zipper, or perhaps it'd be easier to simply rip it off..._ At this point, Cato is staring, just imagining how she might look and what she might do tonight.

"Nobody can know about this," Katniss affirms in an attempt to distract Cato's eyes from her body. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable, wondering if her little plan had gotten her in far too deep.

Her voice pulls Cato out of his thoughts, and he makes eye contact, nodding. Out of the corner of his eye, Cato spots a very angry Brutus storming towards him, and as much as he would love to continue this conversation, Cato knows he has to get going before Katniss witnesses Brutus' rage.

Cato leans toward Katniss' ear, pressing their cheeks together, and stops as his lips finally touch her ear. "Your mentor's coming. I better go now.S ee you tonight?" he whispers in her ear, using the husky tone he knows drives girls crazy. He smirks against her ear as he feels her body shiver slightly. She gives him a curt nod and he pulls away.

After giving Katniss a final wink, the absurdity of the what just happened finally hits Cato as he walks away to meet up with Brutus. Cato is completely and utterly stunned. _Katniss Everdeen just agreed to have sex with me tonight._


	4. Chapter 4

Katniss grits her teeth as Venia, a woman with aqua hair and golden tattoos above her eyebrows, yanks a piece of material that takes away the hair that lays beneath it.

"I'm sorry darling, only a few more strips!" she reassures in a haughty Capitol accent.

The remaining hairs on Katniss' legs are uprooted with quick jerks of her arm. Katniss had been in the Remake Center for at least 3 hours. Her body had been scrubbed down with some gritty soap removing layers of skin in the process, her nails had been filed into uniform shapes, and her entire body, save for her head of hair and her eyebrows, had been stripped of hair. Off course, her eyebrows had been plucked and waxed, and her hair had been cut and styled, so Katniss wasn't quite sure if they counted.

"You're doing phenomenally well," Flavius says. "A whiner just makes the whole process unbearable! Now let's grease her down, ladies!"

Venia and Octavia, who both sported skin in a hue of pea green, rub a lotion onto my skin that soothes the irritation.

"You almost look human now!" they all squeal, laughing hysterically.

"Let's go call Cinna!" Venia says before the whole prep team exits through the door, leaving Katniss alone in a completely white walled, floored, and furnished room. White-out themed rooms were quite common in the Capitol, but the vibrant Capitol citizens with altered skin that inhabited these rooms made up for the lack of color.

The door opens and a man who was undoubtedly lost walks in. Katniss stares in awe at the first normal-looking person she has witnessed in the Capitol. He didn't have dyed skin, tattoos, or wild-colored hair. He was simply normal. His close-cropped hair seemed to be a natural dark-brown. The only aspect about him that screamed "Capitol" was his metallic gold eyeliner, expertly chosen to bring out the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes.

"Hello, my name is Cinna. I'm your stylist," says the man that just walked in.

"Hello," Katniss replies, awestruck that he had not been lost after all.

"Just give me a moment," he says, beginning to circle around Katniss' naked body. Feeling self-conscious, Katniss resists the urge to cross her arms over her bare chest.

"So how long have you been a stylist for the Games?" she asks, hoping that small talk will help ease how awkward she feels as he continues to examine her body.

"This is my first year," he replies ever so quietly.

"So they gave you District 12?" Katniss asks, suddenly feeling defeated.

"No, I asked for District 12." His answer shocks Katniss; no one ever in their right mind would ever pick District 12 if they had a choice. Her stylist must be insane.

"That's strange," Katniss replies honestly. Cinna stops circling Katniss and allows her to put her robe back on as he explains his vision.

"So Katniss, myself and Portia, Peeta's stylist, are dressing you in complementary outfits for the opening ceremony," says Cinna. "As you know, it's tradition for the costumes to reflect each district."

"So we'll be in miners outfits then?" she asks with dread.

"Not exactly...we we're going for something a little different," he replies, grinning mischievously. "What do you do with coal, Katniss?" After seeing Katniss' confused face, Cinna continues, "You burn it. You're not afraid of fire, are you?"

"I'm not quite sure where you're going with this Cinna..."

A few hours later, Katniss is dressed in an outfit that she is positive will kill her. _Now I'm positive my stylist is insane_,Katniss thinks. Katniss is dressed in a simple black jumpsuit that covers her from ankle to neck. Shiny leather boats lace up her knees. But it's the fluttering cape composed of streams of orange, yellow and red and the matching headpiece that truly define the outfit. Cinna explains his plans of setting their capes on fire just before their chariot rolls into the streets.

"It's not a real flame, just a little synthetic fire Portia and I came up with. It's completely harmless," Cinna reassures her.

Peeta shows up in an identical outfit. His stylist and prep team accompany him, and everyone is giddy with excitement. As they enter what is essentially a massive stable, they watch as pairs of tributes are being loaded into chariots pulled by four horses. Cinna and Portia direct them into the chariot, carefully arranging their positions, the drapes of their capes, and their headpieces before moving on to converse with elite Capitolites.

"What do you think will happen?" Katnisss whispers to Peeta, yearning for any kind of distraction from her foreboding fear. "We're going to be burned alive before we even get out of the stable," he replies through gritted teeth. Katniss lets out a small nervous laugh. Maybe, if they can get each other's off quick enough, they can avoid the worst of the burns.

"Where's Haymitch?" Katniss asks. She hadn't seen him since this morning before she escaped to the rooftop.

"Probably drunk in some gutter by now," Peeta laughs, and Katniss smiles; it was the first time she had seen his face relax even a bit since the train ride.

The opening music begins blasting around the capitol. Massive doors are pushed open, revealing streets lined with thousands of people. The tributes from District 1 ride out in a chariot pulled by snow-white horses. They look beautiful, glistening in silver with tunics covered in diamonds and jewels galore. It is only appropriate, for District 1 makes luxuries for the capitol. The crowd roars as District 2 comes into view. Both tributes wear golden armor and helmets, looking like powerful Roman gladiators. Cato stares straight ahead, his blue eyes fixated on the City Center, not even sparing a glance to the adoring fans fainting over his beauty.

The crowd keeps screaming Cato's name, throwing flowers and blowing kisses his way. Cato finally decides he'll throw them a couple waves; it's the least he could do. He puts his best smile on. His cheeks are straining tight from the smile he's forcing. Clove is having just as hard of a time as he is, plastering a sweet smile on her face while inside she's ready to hurl. She's trying to show as much teeth as possible and she looks ridiculous.

The tributes from District 11 are just rolling out when Cinna appears with a lighted torch. "Here we go," he says, and before they can react, he sets Katniss and Peeta's capes alight. Katniss shrieks, waiting for the heat to envelope her, but there is only a slight tickling sensation. Cinna climbs up and lights their headdresses.

He lets out a sigh of relief, "It works!" He gently tucks a hand under Katniss chin, lifting it to make her eyes meet his. "Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you!" He climbs down from their chariot, but yells out one last suggestion Katniss can't quite make out.

"What did he say?" she asks Peeta.

"I think he wants us to hold hands" Peeta says, his face immediately sporting a dark tint of pink blush as he takes her hand into his own. The chariot bursts forward.

The crowd's initial shocked silence at their entrance quickly morphs into chants of "District 12! District 12!" Katniss is initially terrified, but then she catches a glance of herself on of the screens. She looks breathtaking. She quickly composes herself, lifting her chin higher, a smile growing on her face. She wave with her free hand, catching roses every now and then. The people of the capitol are going nuts, screaming her name, deeming her the "Girl on Fire".

_No one will forget me. No one will forget Katniss Everdeen. The girl who was on fire._

Cato and Clove approach to the City Circle at the end of the street, and Cato spots a blonde bombshell batting her extremely long eyelashes at him. She gives him a sexy lip bite and waves lightly, blowing Cato a kiss. He smirks at her and winks. _Oh honey, you're just a pretty face_, Cato thinks. He turns his attention back to his soon to be sponsors and spots himself on the large television screen before him. Just as he begins cockily smirking again, his face is replaced with someone else's.

_Who the hell is that?_ Cato growls inwardly. He observes the beautiful girl's face. She seems familiar. Her dark brown hair is in braids atop her head and her gray eyes are gleaming. There's fire all around her. She looks fierce, strong, desirable. _Katniss._ The crowd roars louder after her image appears and _Cato's_ sponsors aren't screaming his name anymore.

"Katniss! Katniss!" She's stealing his sponsors at this very moment. Anger boils inside him. _Nobody does this to me. Nobody takes away my sponsors._ Cato looks over toward Clove as President Snow begins to give his little welcome speech. She has disgust blatantly written all over her face and she seems just as angry as him. They give each other a knowing look. _Katniss is going to pay._

After President Snow finishes his official welcome speech, the tributes disappear into the Training Center. As the doors close around them, Katniss and Peeta are engulfed by their prep teams, getting showered with congratulations for such a perfect opening ceremony. Portia extinguishes their flames and helps them off the chariot. Once down, Katniss witnesses what feels like every tribute in the building glaring at her with eyes full of hatred. Katniss feels guilt overwhelm her; by stealing the show, Katniss was also stealing sponsors that could be saving the another tribute's life. Katniss brushes her thoughts away. She has to do this. _For Prim._

"That was quite an entrance, Fire Girl," Katniss spins around, eyes locking with Cato's. Cato was leaning against the wall casually, still wearing his Roman armor, but opting to play with his headpiece in his hands. "Thank you," Katniss replies in a neutral tone, trying avoid any public indecency with Cato.

"You've lost me a lot of sponsors, Katniss," he sighs, a smirk slowly creeping onto his face.

"You're a Career, you'll get them back," Katniss snaps, irritated by that little smirk of his.

"I sure will once I get the highest training score," he smirks at her, obviously hoping she would contradict him like the fierce girl he knew she was. But Katniss knew there was no point. She certainly wasn't going to get higher than a Career.

"Yeah, you will," she smiles sweetly at him, throwing him off guard.

Cato stares straight into her clear gray eyes. They're void of all emotion. He lets his eyes wander all over her face as he takes her in. She is beautiful, yet pure, unlike any other girl he's ever met. She seems strong, like a fighter, but with a hint of something broken. She was oddly mysterious. She allows no emotion slip onto her face. Coming to the realization that he's been staring for quite some time, distracted by her eyes, Cato panics._ I'm going soft!_ Overcome with fear that Katniss Everdeen has truly done a number on him, Cato resorts to his defense mechanism: the Ruthless Career Act.

"Listen, Twelve! You better stop with the mind games. Don't you dare think you're free to waltz right in here the sponsors I claimed 10 years ago. Keep thinking that way and you'll be dead in less than a minute in the arena. Know your place," Cato growls at her.

The elevator door lets out a _'bing'_ and opens at that moment. Katniss casually saunters past Cato and enters the elevator, pressing the '12' button.

"I've always liked a challenge" she purrs.

Cato growls again. "I'm coming for you, Fire Girl!" he yells. She simply smiles as she looks down at her painted nails, uninterested in his threat.

"Can't wait," she says in a bored manner, not even bothering to glance up at Cato. The elevator doors close, and at that moment Cato lets his built up rage morph into violence as he punches the wall. A small dent is made and his hands begin to throb in pain, but he doesn't care. Pain can serve as a great distraction. He knocks over a small table, along with the flower-filled vase on top of it.

Cato still feels the adrenaline pumping in his veins when he stomps into his suite after the opening ceremony. Clove follows him through the door, immediately ripping her costume to shreds with deadly precision. Cato cannot help but picture that girl in the arena, smiling viciously and cutting the skin of some poor tribute into similar shreds. He glances at Anthea, who unsuccessfully tries to stop Clove from ruining the dress even further, but it's a lost cause. Brutus and Enobaria are already at the table, eating dinner, but before they have a chance to start conversation, Clove, now only in her see-through underskirt, vents her fury out on a wall.

"I can't believe this! That worthless bitch from 12! How dare she steal my show?! I swear, I will kill her, I will rip her heart out, I will bloody skin her-"

"Clove, honey, there's no need to be so emotional about-"

"Emotional? I'm not fucking emotional, I'm fucking pissed! And take that piece of shit away from me!" Clove sends the dress flying at Anthea, who looks like she's going to cry.

"Language, Clove. You're only 14, for Christ's sake," Enobaria reminds her. Clearly, Clove has issues. Cato understands why she feels betrayed; she's not used to being in the shadow. He remembers the dirty looks she was shooting at District 12's tributes, clearly furious that they had outdone them. Cato was just as furious, but he managed to keep his cool; until, of course, he completely lost it in front of Katniss.

"You'll have plenty of time to show off in the next few days," continues Brutus. Clove just huffs with annoyance and assaults her salad with the fork.

"Just don't expect me to be nice to Roma and Esca, they sucked today," she still looks wound up and tense. "Why didn't we get a decent stylist like 12? I bet they did it on purpose."

"Listen, no one expected those underdogs from 12 to literally outshine everyone during the opening ceremony", continues Brutus. "District 1 is not happy either. But you still have an advantage 12 can't even dream of. They might have caught the Gamemakers' attention, but that's why you have to do excel during individual evaluations and your interviews. And rake some kills as soon as the bloodbath begins."

"Nothing turns the Gamemakers on like a sight of a fresh spleen dripping with blood, believe me" croons Enobaria.

Oh, Cato believes her, all right. She never talks much, but when she does open her mouth, she scares the shit out of him. And he doesn't get scared. He knows one thing, though; he would rather have Enobaria as his ally rather as an enemy. He doesn't need convincing that she could be very, very deadly.

The room suddenly feels all too hot, and Cato knows he needs some time alone to let his temper cool down after this complicated day.

"Going already?" asks Clove, chewing on the lamb. Cato sends her an apologetic grin. "Yeah, I want to rest before tomorrow's training. See you," Cato quickly grabs a scone and disappears in his room, eager to finally be alone.

He stomps into the bathroom, hoping an ice cold shower will help simmer down his fury. The cold water feels heavenly on his heated muscles. He was still pissed about what had happened at, but the cold was helping it seize. _What was I going to do with this girl?_ Cato had a feeling Katniss Everdeen was going to be a huge problem.

As the last drop of Cato's rage escapes him, he thinks back upon what happened. _This girl is seriously messing with my mind!_ And the thing is, despite how much Cato doesn't want to admit it, he knows she's barely even trying. _So why does she have this effect on me?_

He remembers the image he saw on the screen above his head. Katniss Everdeen, aflame in dark attire, glazing like an otherworldly, exquisite bird, her eyes pointed directly at the camera...It was a sight so hypnotizing he couldn't take his eyes off her. Never mind the blond guy; the crowd on either sides of the walkway had lost it completely for Katniss. Capitolians were throwing flowers at her, screaming in a frenzy for the Girl on Fire, desperate to touch her. And then Katniss had smiled, baring her teeth, and Cato felt heat travel up his spine. It was like a fire turning him to ash, tearing him apart, burning in his veins, and suddenly, he wanted to burn with her...

Cato snaps out of it before he lets his fantasies go too far.

Then he remembers something. The rooftop. _"My floor, tonight, after the Tributes Parade."_

Cato realizes he fucked up. Big time. He was supposed to have the night of his dreams with Katniss Everdeen. Surely that wasn't going to happen now. Was it?!

Katniss had looked phenomenal at the parade. She took Cato's breath away. When he approached her after they got off their chariots, it started off with just a little smirking and flirting on his part. Then everything just went so wrong.

_God fucking damnit, why did I let my big fucking Career ego get in the way?!_


End file.
